The birds veer and swoop like words,
Follow the leader north, south,
Whichever the true season.
The V’s of the honking geese
Are seldom perfectly straight;
A joker on the right wing
(Or on the serious left)
Throws the whole thing off-balance.
No such thing as symmetry.
Late at night the sycamore
Rises silent and sullen,
Its branches quite akimbo.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
While Longing for Order in Life
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